Insecurities
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: Tag to 'Sex, Birth, and Death'. He thought he'd had Emily Prentiss pegged after that first meeting, but as he was learning today, she wasn't quite as easy to profile as he'd first thought... Co-written with Confetti Leaves.


Morgan watched in silence as Emily left Hotch's office and stomped back through the bullpen, obviously in a bad mood. She dropped herself into the seat and returned to her work, hitting the keys on the keyboard with more force than necessary. She reached for her coffee, but ended up knocking over her stack of files in the process. She let out a strangled noise of aggravation and slammed her cup back down, the contents sloshing over the sides.

He raised his brows, but didn't comment, instead helping her reassemble the stack of files as she cleaned up her desk with a napkin, cursing under her breath. With unnecessary force, she tossed the now empty paper cup into the trash as if it had done her wrong. In the process of turning back to her desk, she knocked her shin on the corner.

"God damn it!"

Fully aware that she might bite his head off, Morgan rested a hand on her shoulder. "Looks like you could use a break...want to grab a coffee with me?"

She pursed her lips as she glared at him, then sighed aggravatedly. "Fine."

* * *

Morgan and Emily stood together on the roof of the Bureau, leaning over the concrete ledge to stare down at the grounds below where some new recruits were being put through their paces. He tried not to seem like he was watching her as she angrily scuffed her shoe across the floor, kicking at some imaginary rock.

"Something bothering you?"

"That obvious, huh?" she deadpanned. "Don't worry about it, you won't understand."

Morgan shrugged. "Maybe not, but I know you've been in a bad mood since Hotch got through with you...something to do with the case?"

"Is he this distrustful of everyone or am I just his new whipping girl?" she asked bitterly.

"You're new, it happens – especially when you show up mysteriously right after Elle left. It's not your fault."

Her stare suddenly became colder. "So, you think the same thing he does?" she accused. "And why wouldn't you? Why would _anyone _give me the benefit of the doubt?"

"Look, I'm sorry that you're having a hard time, but you can't blame us for wondering. I'm sure it will pass with time. You've proven that you can contribute to the team, this case is just a very sensitive one..."

She whirled around to glare at him. "No, I haven't! Or I wouldn't still be getting this kind of crap – not just from Hotch, from everyone. Though, I have to say, I'm surprised to get it from you..."

He sighed. "Prentiss – Emily, that's not what I meant when I said you showed up mysteriously. I'm not doubting you."

"Really? Because it sure sounds like it," she retorted.

"That came out wrong. But why do you care what I think anyway?"

"Everyone always assumes the worst of me – it would be nice if, just once, someone would wait before deciding that I've got some ulterior motive. Maybe I was wrong to want this job."

Morgan frowned. "You think I was judging you, just because of your name and your mother? Don't you think I'd know better than to judge a book by its cover?"

"Well, since I never even told you who my mother is, her reputation obviously precedes me. So, tell me...what do you think you know about me?"

He huffed, but played along and answered her. "You're still the same girl I met that night: feisty, stubborn, a little hot-tempered, smart, and obviously good at her job. Your name – that's just unfortunate."

She made an indistinct noise in response. "Tell me about it. It's also 'unfortunate' that everyone else didn't meet me first and my name second. You know, I first met Agent Hotchner when I was eighteen, the summer before I left for Yale..."

"You met Hotch before?" Morgan asked, brow raised.

"He was working my mother's security detail after we returned from Italy. I think the first time I saw him, he was just arriving for the morning...and I was hungover, doing the walk of shame after an older friend's frat party." Her voice was surprisingly devoid of emotion as she retold the story.

He laughed quietly. "Hard to imagine that. So, what has all that got to do with your...unfortunate mood?"

"I am never going to earn his respect. Nothing I can do is ever going to make him see me as anything other than some stupid teenager in a stained cocktail dress, smelling of booze, trying to unlock the door with my car keys."

"You said it yourself," he pointed out, "You were a teenager... We've all gotten drunk and done stupid things when we were that age. Besides, it was Hotch who convinced Gideon to take you on the first case..."

She scoffed. "Because he didn't want me here with him. He was just ousting me off on someone else, making me their problem. He's already made up his mind about me and it doesn't matter how good I am at profiling or how many lives I save – it will _never _be enough."

"Now who's the one judging a book by its cover? Do you really know Hotch all that well?" He gave her a pointed look. "He convinced Gideon to take you because you were the only one who is trained to profile and who speaks fluent Arabic. You don't have to try so hard to prove yourself to everyone – just do your best and I'm sure it will be enough. Trust me."

"No offence, but you don't know anything about me. Don't tell me what I should or shouldn't be doing."

He sighed. "You're right, I don't know you all that well. Do whatever you want, Prentiss. I'm going back to work."

Emily gave an annoyed huff as she turned around to watch him leave. "You won't tell anyone what I said...will you?"

"What did you say?" he called back, continuing to walk away.

She rolled her head, realizing that he wasn't going to give her another second of his time. "Just...piss off."

"Aren't I doing just that?"

"Whatever," she muttered, "I got this far without you giving a damn, so feel free to stop pretending like you care."


End file.
